staff Editor in Chief Ashley Stewart 2014 alumna / Washington 2009 Alumni Stephanie Colaianni / Florida Rachael Joyner / Florida Dori Zinn / Florida 2011 Loan Le / New York Michael Newberger / Florida 2012 Fiji Blaize / Florida Josh Santos / Florida 2013 Michelle Friswell / Florida Noelle Haro Gomez / Arizona Shannon Kaestle / Florida Emily Miels / Wisconsin Malorie Paine / Nevada 2014 Claire Boston / New York Nicole DeCriscio / Indiana Ellen Eldridge / Georgia Jordan Gass-Poore / Texas Ally Krupinsky / North Dakota Alex Jacobi / Tennessee Roberto Roldan / Florida Co-Directors Michele Boyet Michael Koretzky
From Hollywood to Haines City… We’re still writing for food By Michele Boyet, co-director
F
or the last five years, I have spent every Labor Day weekend in a homeless shelter. This holiday weekend, I am typing this letter from room 111 at “America’s first homeless hotel.” And it’s all in the name of journalism. We call the program Will Write For Food. It began in April 2009 as an evening event for attendees of the Society of Professional Journalists’ Region 3 convention. Since then, each Labor Day weekend we bring 25 college journalists to Hollywood, Florida, to take over the Homeless Voice – the nation’s second-largest homeless newsletter – and assemble a 24-page special issue in 36 hours. But this year, the Homeless Voice and its publisher, the Coalition of Service and Charity (COSAC) shelter, moved three hours and eight minutes northwest to Haines City, Florida. After years of pressure from Hollywood city officials to relocate, COSAC founder/ director Sean Cononie purchased the Stay Plus Inn in Polk County, dubbing the 120-room motel “America’s first homeless hotel.” And our program moved right along with it. We invited our top alumni (writers, photographers and designers) from the last six years of the program to chronicle the changes. Flip through the pages of this issue and visit us online at www. Original WWFF editors Rachael Joyner and Michele Boyet in April 2009 (top) and on alumni weekend 2015 (bottom). WWFF15.wordpress.com to read about shelter expansion plans (page 3) and their thoughts on the new digs (see page 4), kids at the shelter (page 10), Cononie’s health (page 16) and much more… Special thanks: The annual Will Write For Food program is sponsored by Society of Professional Journalists’ Florida Chapter and SPJ Region 3. Note: The content in this issue does not necessarily represent the views of its publisher, the COSAC shelter or that of its Founder/Director Sean Cononie.
Contents A homeless island? We examine Sean’s craziest dreams.
3
A sex offender wants to stay at the shelter, but it’s unclear whether local laws allow him.
7
9
Smoking while pregnant is probably ill advised.
A Spanish-language Pentecostal church is leaving the Stay Plus space. Sean Cononie has plans for an interfaith congregation.
12
Stay Plus’s old front desk attendant has stayed on through the homeless hotel transition.
13
19
Homeless Voice vendors could form a communist union.
‘I hate this place’ Cononie hates hotel location, plans to purchase island or ship instead
One idea Cononie is considering is purchasing an island. Submitted photo.
By Malorie Paine No man is an island, entire of itself, especially Sean Cononie and the residents of the COSAC shelter. Cononie is infamous in south and central Florida for his ideals and philosophies in addressing homelessness. Cononie relocated his COSAC shelter from Hollywood, Florida to Haines City earlier this year, after the city forced them out. Cononie’s plan was to move somewhere isolated, but the problems he faced in Hollywood haven’t disappeared. They’ve simply evolved and new problems have arisen. “I hate this place,” Cononie said. “I hate my job because every day is a problem. I don’t like being threatened to get arrested for wiping pee up or cleaning someone’s poop up or dressing their wounds.” Currently, he owns and operates the Stay Plus Inn in Haines City. The facility provides rooms to both homeless and the general public. He’s at the hotel for now, but Cononie has been tossing around several ideas about what his next step will be. Isolating homelessness People don’t want to see homelessness, Cononie said. Cities have tried to outlaw homelessness, he says, and it’s impossible to do that. The most frustrating thing for Cononie is that the governments have been trying to put homelessness “out of sight, and out of mind.” He’s considering two options that he believes would be better for the shelter residents. Cononie has investigated the process to purchase either an island or an old cruise or Navy ship, where shelter residents and other homeless people could move. He says one of the three islands he’s considering costs about $995,000 to purchase, but would be much more cost effective in the long-run.
Purchasing an old Navy or cruise ship wasn’t an idea Cononie came up with on his own, but he says it’s one he has certainly explored. “A ship could house about 5,000 people,” he said. Cononie says he is disappointed in people who want to put homelessness out of mind. He says buying an island would give people a “free pass” to do just that, which is the only reason he would consider not buying an island.
Analysis of plan A homeless island or ship sounds like a great idea, until you consider the logistics of the actual idea. Sure, an island where all homeless people could go and feel welcome sounds great, but people shouldn’t be isolated on a ship or island for the rest of their lives. Some of the residents at Stay Plus Inn already feel like they are isolated and away from the things they need and want, I don’t
Cononie wants to present the idea of low-income hotels across the country on the television show “Shark Tank,” a show where inventors can present their ideas to a group of investors who are then able to invest in the proposal. Cononie says he thinks this particular show would provide the greatest opportunity to reach people willing and able to make a difference. “Even if it wasn’t selected, someone watching might think ‘Hey, I could do that,’” he said. Then, they could work together, he says. “I believe this concept would work other places because it’s working for us,” he said. The idea behind the hotel is that not everyone can afford a room, but that shouldn’t prevent a person from having a place to stay. “Some pay, some don’t,” Cononie said. The shelter would have to be replicated in a lowincome area where homelessness is prevalent. “Everywhere has a bad area,” he said. “You wouldn’t want to open one of these next to an upscale restaurant, obviously.”
see how they would be comfortable living in even more of an isolated situation. In addition to the isolation, a lot goes into inhibiting an island. The island would still need plumbing and a stockpile of supplies such as food and basic necessities. The likelihood of a homeless island or ship being successful is slim to none.
Analysis of plan This idea could become a reality for other cities. However, it would take someone willing to put in the effort and work required to operate a low-income hotel. This couldn’t be opened with the intention of making money. It would absolutely have to be for the right reason, which is only to
Homeless hotels possible for other cities Cononie said he would love to see others take responsibility in addressing homelessness. The Stay Plus Inn’s operation model is one that could be replicated in other cities with a prevalent homeless population, he said.
help resolve homelessness. I believe with the right people behind it, the Stay Plus Inn could certainly b e replicated.
Homeless voice • will write for food
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New place, new problems By: Dori zinn Welcome to Haines City, where you can’t leave anywhere unless you have a car. The nearest restaurant to the Stay Plus Inn is nearly a 30-minute walk up Highway 27. WalMart trips happen every other day or so, where tenants will load up a van to drive three miles away to avoid an hour walk in the summer heat. Some residents walk 10 minutes to the nearest gas station just for snacks. Toto, we’re not in Hollywood anymore. When more than 100 COSAC residents moved up to Haines City earlier this year, they left their cramped quarters in downtown Hollywood for a spacious 120room low-cost motel three hours north. It may be in the middle of nowhere—Haines City has only a fraction of the population and square mileage that Hollywood does—but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t come without any benefits.
Before
cononie Sean Cononie is happy about having more space, but he isn’t used to the slower lifestyle. In Hollywood, emergency response took less than five minutes to arrive. During a recent overdose at Stay Plus Inn, a tenant didn’t get into an ambulance until 35 minutes after the first call was made.
after
The cafeteria There’s no longer a tiny cafeteria with diners shoulder to shoulder. Now, the dining hall has an open floor plan where many residents don’t even need to sit next to each other when eating. They don’t even need to talk to each other at all.
The tenants Before
4 • Homeless voice • will write for food
COSAC in Hollywood accepted children, but not because they wanted to. There usually wasn’t a place for them to sleep with limited rooms and space. In Haines City, everyone gets a room and pays what they can. Families—sometimes as large as six—are in one room together. Solo guests, depending on their budgets, may get roommates. Some visitors pay $24 a night, some pay nothing.
The compound The COSAC shelter in Hollywood was an 8,500-square-foot. sex motel, where some of the 17 rooms still had mirrors on the ceiling. Stay Plus Inn boasts more than 120 rooms with more than twice as much space. Some long-term
Before
guests who were former shelter residents now stay together in rooms of 2, 4 or 8, depending on what they can afford, but at least they aren’t sleeping on a cafeteria floor.
After
Photo by Noelle Haro-Gomez
The Water treatment Besides a fancy pool and more than double the space, the Stay Plus Inn also has one heavy machine that COSAC did not: their own, private water treatment facility. In Hollywood, COSAC paid nearly $3,000 a month to the city for water. In Haines City, there’s a water and sewage treatment facility on the property that eliminates a water bill entirely: a savings of $36k a year.
Photo by Stephanie Colaianni
The work The Homeless Voice still gets distributed by the same people—the tenants. Now instead of having the South Florida residents at their disposal, they drive an hour away to busy Orlando streets. Their days are now cut shorter due to longer commutes. They still sell the paper to make money and earn their stay.
The community Gone is the patio where dozens gathered daily and instead, residents retire to their rooms. There’s not as much of a need for a community when there’s no place to meet them. The new digs have a pool that some of the tenants frequent—a relatively new luxury.
Photo by Noelle Haro-Gomez
Homeless voice • will write for food
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Waiting for 37 minutes A race against time and drugs By ally krupinsky
COSAC staff members try to keep Steven Baumgartner alive until an ambulance arrives. An ambulance arrived 34 minutes later. Photo by Noelle Haro-Gomez
9:48 p.m. Someone dials 911. Steven Baumgartner, a Stay Place Inn resident of two days, took 4,400 mg of Seroquel, a medication used to treat bipolar disorder, depression and schizophrenia. The average dose is 800 mg. Baumgartner allegedly was upset with his roommate, so he wanted to “calm down.” Stay Place Inn owner Sean Cononie, along with about seven other workers, are trying to keep him awake. They’re also trying to keep his heart rate down. Once it hits 135 to 140 beats per minute, they have him stick his thumb to the roof of his mouth and blow, and later tighten his stomach. “Stay focused,” they tell him once he starts to nod off. At one point, Cononie starts to sing. Cyndi Malvita notices several cuts on both of his forearms. “It’s the only life you got man,” she says. “You gotta live with it.”
10:09 p.m. Baumgartner’s heart rate is at 141. He’s not doing as good of a job at blowing, and the small crowd gathered around him is giving him words of encouragement. Cononie says the Stay Place Inn has seen about five overdoses since its opening in March. Mike O’Hara, who works for Cononie, says it was somewhat easier for residents to keep an eye out for one another in the more confined spaces of the Hollywood shelter. They also utilized a medication lock box for high-risk residents. “The exact night” that state officials told Stay Place Inn employees they couldn’t hold anyone’s medication, a resident overdosed.
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10:17 p.m. A deputy with the Polk County Sheriff’s Department arrives. Baumgartner tells him he was trying to commit suicide. Malvita says fire rescue should have been on standby in order to offer quick assistance. Her explanation for the slow response time is, “they hate us here.”
10:21 p.m. Four fire rescue responders arrive to question Baumgartner. They’re not carrying a stretcher or supplies.
10:25 p.m. Baumgartner is placed on a stretcher. Before he’s strapped in, Malvita checks to see if he has any sharp objects in his possession. “They want to go home tonight,” she says to the barely coherent Baumgartner. Frustration is palpable as the small crowd disperses. “They don’t care about the homeless,” Malvita says. “This is a perfect example.” Cononie calls the wait “unacceptable.” He understands the concern for their safety, but thinks fire rescue needs to be on scene immediately once they get the okay from law enforcement. He says he’s spent more than $100,000 on emergency training and equipment over the years, which is especially handy on nights like this one. “I gotta tell you, that’s the best $100,000 I’ve ever spent in my life.”
Not in my backyard sex offender unsure if he can stay
By Ellen Eldridge Steven Baumgartner is haunted by a mistake he made 33 years ago. “I’ve got to tell everybody where I live ‘cause I messed up bad,” Baumgartner said. “I hate talking about it, but everybody keeps asking me. It’s something I’m not very proud of, and it tears me apart.” It might tear him away from the one place he feels like calling home. Baumgartner is a sex offender. He arrived at the Stay Plus Inn in Haines City two days ago, but legal restrictions might send him packing. Inn owner Sean Cononie said Baumgartner will be forced back onto the streets if the sheriff’s office says a sex offender can’t live at the Inn. “He’ll have to go, and he’ll have to be a transient,” Cononie said. “He was a transient when we got him.” Volunteers picked Baumgartner up in Orlando Sept. 4 and brought him back. He’d been moving from group homes to the streets before landing at the Inn, where he hopes to stay. “I would stay here forever if I can,” Baumgartner said. “It’s very peaceful.” Cononie would like to house him. He says it’s better he provides low-income housing for sex offenders because when offenders are transient, tracking them is almost impossible. But, the families with children on the property want Baumgartner gone. “Another resident knocked on my door about 6:30 or 7 o’clock in the morning and handed me a piece of paper — it was a printout saying he was a sex offender,” Annan Holcomb said. “Honestly, I flipped out.” Holcomb and her four children, ages 13, 10, 8 and 5, arrived at the Inn in July. After calling her mom and an aunt who Holcomb said works in the court system, Holcomb talked to Cononie about her concerns. “It’s not legal for him to stay next to a school and
a church,” Cononie said. “That’s the way it is for most sex offenders.” Restrictions on sex offenders ban them from living near schools and daycare centers, but a stranger sexually victimizes children only 7 percent of the time, the Bureau of Justice Statistics reports. Cononie said he would prefer to judge people individually by their past crimes, but he doesn’t think Baumgartner will be allowed to stay. Baumgartner said when he goes to register as a sex offender, everyone in the office says it isn’t fair that he still has to register for a crime that occurred 33 years ago and that he served prison time for more than a decade. “I fell with all that stuff a long time ago and they still want to hit me with it,” Baumgartner said. “I fell in 1982.” The “no drinking, no drugs” rule at Stay Plus Inn doesn’t bother Baumgartner, he said, because he’s been off drugs for a year now. Holcomb said because she used methamphetamine in the past she doesn’t believe drug abuse excuses sex crimes. “The drugs, they say they change you, but not to that extent,” Holcomb said. “If you’re going to rape somebody, that’s just in you. That’s a monster you have.” Time passing makes no difference to her, either. “In my point of view, they cannot be rehabilitated,” Holcomb said. “All I know is that in 1982 in Iowa he raped some
(Right) Baumgartner was given a hotel room on the farthest building away from the many children that are staying in the hotel. (Left) A page left on the ground of the Stay Plus Inn shows a photo of Steven Baumgartner, a registered sex offender. Photos by Stephanie Collaianni people,” she said. “I don’t care if it was a woman who was 30 years old that he raped. That doesn’t always mean that’s what he’ll stick to.” Her 5-year-old will tell you that if he sees Baumgartner, he’s not allowed to talk to him because “he’s a mean man,” Holcomb said. She warned her children about Baumgartner and showed them Baumgartner’s picture as soon as she got the flyer. “I don’t believe you should sugarcoat the world for your kids because when you do, they go out there thinking it’s all sugar and lollipops,” Holcomb said. “And the world is not a nice place to live. I don’t care what perspective you come from: if you’re homeless or if you’re rich, it’s still not a nice place to live.”
Homeless voice • will write for food
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A cigarette love story A pregnant homeless woman, a violent ex-husband, and a sandwich-making boyfriend
Stephanie Summer distributes the Homeless Voice infront of Lynx bus station while 6 months pregnant. Photo by Noelle Haro Gomez
By Jordan Gass-poore
Flick. The lighter’s flame warmed Stephanie Summers’ lips as she relit her cigarette, burned down to a nub. Embers fell onto Summers’ neon yellow T-shirt, the back of which was purposefully tied into a knot to accentuate her bulging stomach. The State Plus Inn resident is 6 months pregnant with her fourth child. Flick Summers’ fresh cigarette was perched between two fingers with chipped blue fingernail polish in one hand. In the other was a copy of The Homeless Voice newspaper that she was waving to no one near a street corner in downtown Orlando. Backaches from a kidney infection and pregnancy were supposed to prevent Summers from vending. Then a Stay Plus Inn employee knocked on her door at 7 a.m. and told her to jump in a van with other vendors. Tenants there choose to hock copies of The Homeless Voice for donations on various street corners in Orlando. The money is divvied 40/60 between vendors and the inn to help pay for food and accommodations. Cory Anderson, Summers’ boyfriend and roommate, handed The Homeless Voice to passersby alongside Summers. In the interim, he arranged wrapped sandwiches on a pile of ice in a red water cooler to keep the couple’s lunch fresh. As Summers popped mini-donuts into her mouth, Anderson encouraged her to eat a sandwich. Later, she replied. Two more packs of mini-donuts remained in a paper bag beside her. She and Anderson simultaneously, almost telepathically, pulled out identical green packs of cigarettes from the pockets of their blue jeans. Flick
They took deep drags on their cigarettes as they paced back-and-forth inside the “blue box,” a rectangular space delineated by blue tick marks on the brick sidewalk where cash solicitation is allowed. “I don’t like asking for money,” said Summers, exhaling a steady stream of smoke from her nostrils. Copies of The Homeless Voice were stacked beside Anderson. He handed a free copy to an elderly man with a cane that walked by him. Have a good day. “Nine times out of 10 they’ll come back and give a donation,” said Anderson, a friendly military brat, of his distribution practice. This was the couple’s first time vending. In their five day stay at the Stay Plus Inn they had previously carpooled with fellow tenants to help navigate the streets of downtown Orlando, Cory’s hometown. But Anderson said they would do anything to help financially support their unborn child, including standing for hours in the sun vending – and selling drugs, and turning tricks. Whoosh A bus rounded the corner in front of Summers, who stood in the shade of a small tree with wispy limbs. She rubbed her stomach. No more kicking. Sleep came seldom for Summers and Anderson, now that their unborn child kicked her stomach and his back while they spooned in bed at night. “It’s a boy,” Summers said. A Florida doctor told her she was having twins. A doctor at Heart of Florida Regional Medical Center told her she was carrying “one large baby.” This will be Summers’ fourth child, the second with Anderson. The Philadelphia native moved to Orlando in 1997. She met Anderson about a year later at an Extended Stay Hotel there, where she was staying with her husband. Summers ran away from her husband, who she said was physically and emotionally abusive, to be with Anderson. Ding Summers flipped her phone open and
scanned the text message. It was from her husband of a decade, her soon-to-be-exhusband. He wanted to know why her brother didn’t show up to work on a construction project with him. “I was wondering how he got my number,” Summers said. Her brother had given it to her husband. Anderson prickled at the mention of the men. There was bad blood between them. The Florida Department of Children and Families gave Summers’ children – a 2-, 5and 9-year-old – to her husband’s mother in Orlando. Her husband lives with his mother, she said. This has prevented Summers from contacting her children, she said. Flick Summers’ daughter turned 5 on Sept. 1 and she intentionally did not call her to wish her happy birthday because she didn’t want her husband to have her phone number. “I have a 9-year-old and a 5-year-old with him, and I’ve missed numerous birthdays ‘cause every time he gets my number it happens: he’ll get drunk, high, we’ll get harassed,” Summers said. Neither Summers or her husband are legally allowed to live with the children. She said her husband tried to hit her and Anderson with a cement block about 16 months ago. So, she said she called the cops. Now her husband’s on felony probation, she said. “Every time he gets locked up his mom drops the kids off [with us],” said Anderson of Summers’ husband. The Florida Department of Children and Families cleared Anderson to care for the children at his mother’s house, he said. “If you ask her kids who they’re dad is they’ll tell you me,” he said, beaming. His smile exposed a row of missing and rotting teeth, a reminder of the life he and Summers escaped – a life they want their children to avoid. “We’re clean now,” said Anderson. Except, of course, for the cigarettes. Flick
Homeless voice • will write for food
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The four brothers in room 223 are a team. They play together, comfort each other and stand up for one another. They have plenty of obstacles, and for the most part, they know that. They know, but they’re not sad. They’re sweet and energetic and smart, and their home, or lack thereof, doesn’t change that.
‘Love is Free’
Being a kid in a homeless hotel
By Allyson Krupinsky Photos by Shannon Kaestle
At five: Harold likes to lie politely. “Here, I made this for you,” he says, handing a Will Write For Food reporter a “talking stick,” his name for the used popsicle stick in his small hand. But he’s honest about where he lives. “I live in a hotel!” he declares happily during breakfast. He also likes to hug. Nearly every WWFF reporter got a hug and some got an “I love you.” He spends his days in the pool, playing with his family’s two kittens and watching TV in their single hotel room, which has a mattress on the floor for his parents’ two bunk beds for the four boys. He’s too young to know this isn’t how all little boys live.
At eight: Gabe is a storyteller. After sprinting to the pool from his room while wearing Spiderman swimming trunks and no shoes, he yells, “Wanna see some impressive stuff?!” Before waiting for an answer, he executes a sideways bellyflop. He also shows off “cannonball explosions,” “whirlpools,” “triple flippers” and “dragon ball supers.” He keeps busy swimming, running and exploring with his older brother. And since a sex offender moved into the inn, he has no other choice, since his parents won’t let him play alone. “Sometimes it just makes me scared,” he says of the “cho-mo,” the term the boys have coined a child molester. And if anything else bad happens — “I tell mom.”
At thirteen: James doesn’t want to be like his dad. When he gets angry, he gets flashbacks from those times when he was young. He says his mom’s voice is what calms him down. His sister, who he still talks to, was adopted by a wealthy family. But he wouldn’t trade places with her, because, he says, “I don’t want her to deal with what I’m dealing with.” He spends his time at Stay Plus Inn with his friend Nick, usually on the Internet. He sings and raps — something he’d like to keep pursuing as a possible career. He also consoles his younger brothers, even if they’re saying and crying about the same things he’s thinking. He fell asleep in math class the day after he woke up to yelling at 2 a.m. He wishes they were still in their two-story, seven bedroom house. He thinks people need to get better at minding their own business. “If you just don’t think about it, it’s not that bad.”
At ten: Wesley is all about his brothers. He says that if his family ever gets kicked out of Stay Plus Inn, he’d be fine living on the street, just as long as Harold and Gabe have a home. He says he tickles and hugs his brothers when they cry about having nothing to do. He ignores the kids that tease him at school. His interview with WWFF reporters was riddled with phrases like “I’m fine with it” and “I’m used to it.” While he’s at the pool, another boy of about the same age walks by. He tells Wesley that he got free soda. After calling the boy a liar, he says, “I get love for free. Love is free.”
10 • Homeless voice • will write for food
Letters From The kids Each year, college students join Will Write For Food to write about what it’s like to be homeless – for other people. This time, we were joined by some of the more than 20 kids who live at the shelter. Here’s what life is like, in their own words.
Gabe
“There are three swamps. There are alligators. There are dangerous animals. There could be a king cobra. You would have to have anti-venom to survive the bite, my mom said. I was told if you have a knife to get out of the alligator.”
James
from indiana we moved to florida yes is all this stupid puss here at stay plus but wats the plus side sometimes i wanna hide this place stinks it needs some tride gum living here i feel like a bum but i’m not no slum because i will come from nowhere and get out of here
Nick Davis
Some Kids grow up in a safe environment and some grow up on the streets this doesn't allow the people of the world to judge others do to the facts that they have no control over, sometimes in life you have to suffer to finally get an understanding on how life works. Does that mean those who have suffered should look down upon, but should those who haven't look down upon those who have? This question is asked or thought of quite a bit actually people, even kids, are taught and brought up to be the best They can be but at the same time they should be being taught to help others when they need it. Just because someone is poor and has no money doesn't mean society should look down upon them actually in my own opinion They should be on equal standards because mostly they have been put through more. Yes, some wealthy people have been through a lot to get to where they are but there are people out there that have been born into that wealth. As a result those kids were accepted into society and taught by the so called "paradise" named society that those who have to work for what they get should be bullied or even put down. It's like birds and a penguin, the penguin has wings but can't fly but they make up for it in the fact they can swim, however the other birds can't swim but can fly what I'm trying to get through to you is that the poor can't buy everything also known as flying but they have virtue they know what it is to fight and stand for what it is that's important they know what's it's like to have nothing which makes it all the better to have something. The rich however (the birds) have everything and may be able to fly but mostly they lag virtue, yes they have things but an item cannot bring happiness to basically anything. Give a poor man money and a shovel,he will dig, but give a rich man money and a shovel he will pay someone to dig for him. I'm not trying to get across that poor people are better all i am saying is that we shouldn't be judged my society for how much we have. This will make the world finally worth the earth, society will finally stop being hatted if we understand what others go through.
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Moving with the spirit Church at Stay Plus Inn prepares to leave building
A member of the congregation experiences the Holy Spirit and speaks in tongues. Photo by Stephanie Colaianni
By Alex Jacobi Iglesia Pentecostal Luz y Verdad worships hard. They don’t sit in pews and mumble words; they stand up and shout, beating tambourines and playing washboards. They run the aisles and dance. They have a lot of joy even though they’re leaving their church building in five months. Stay Plus Inn owner Sean Cononie acquired the church space when he bought the motel, and he has other plans for it. Worshipers have until February to find a new place. But they say they aren’t upset. They’re even feeding the shelter tenants next week. They see the church as more than a location; it’s about helping everyone, and they trust that God will provide them with greater things. On a recent Sunday morning, Pastor Angelo Albino read to them from Deuteronomy 1, where the Israelites are traveling to the promised land — “The Lord your God, who is going before you, will fight for you, as he did for you in Egypt, before your very eyes, in the wilderness.” Their own promised land is coming, but for now, they wait. The church that was once an old restaurant beside the bar at the Stay Plus Inn used to be a place with dirty walls and floors and cockroaches in old vats of grease. It was an empty waste. Then, the church members came and transformed
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the building in just two week’s time. Now, an altar and pews sit in the room, and ornate decorations adorn the walls. Even with all their hard work to make the space what it is now, the members don’t really mind giving the space to Cononie. “We believe we are supposed to give something profound to the people,” church member Santos Ramos Jr. said. “Everywhere we go, we want to give.” Yadira Diaz, who has been a member since 2010, says not only will the new building be a blessing, but waiting for it will be as well. “As we wait, we get new strength. It’s good to wait. It makes us stronger,” Diaz said. They believe Cononie’s mission is important, and that his asking them to leave wasn’t for selfish purposes, but to further the kingdom of God. He even offered to pay 10 months of their rent as they look for a new building. “When he first got here, he told us that he’s not a person who’s trying to evict God from nowhere. That’s why he gave us the opportunity to stay here [for 10 months],” said Ivan Burgos, lead pastor of the church. Not only do they believe in Cononie’s mission, but they also have their own ministry for the homeless called The Forgotten, which has been run by Miguel Gonzalez since last November. Gonzalez prepares 20 to 25 lunches and carries them to both Stay Plus Inn residents and homeless people around town. He started the ministry because he had a dream where he saw himself feeding the homeless, and
then an evangelist came to his house and confirmed that dream. Once he explained his mission to his family, the homeless ministry began. Burgos thinks that being next to the Inn has helped the church have more of a heart for the homeless. “Seeing a person like Sean, the way he is, he doesn’t say that he cares, he shows. It moved us; it moved the church to see someone like that,” Burgos said. “Sean said to us once that he must be the worst Christian in the world, and we laughed when he said that because he can’t say that. He’s doing what the Bible says.” Cononie wants to create an interfaith church, allowing multiple religions to have a place to worship and bringing in professionals of theology to preach. “We would have a rabbi maybe come in, a Baptist minister, a Catholic priest, a non-denominational minster, a street minister, we would allow everybody,” Cononie said. Cononie grew up Catholic and said that exploring other sides of faith allowed him to find spirituality. “To me, interfaith is good because I learned from it,” Cononie said. Cononie considers himself a Christian, but says he doesn’t run the Inn solely because he is a Christian. At the same time, he is inspired by his faith, and he admits that maybe God had a hand in his role in the Inn and his previous shelter in Hollywood, even if he didn’t hear a specific message. He instead saw a need and thought the solution was simple. Give the homeless a roof and food. Cononie admits that without God, the shelter likely wouldn’t still be running. “Mathematically, scientifically, logistically, this place should not work, and it does, really with flying colors,” Cononie said. “So I think God leads his way into here, and I think he takes a lot of the stress off of me.” As for what will happen to his church, it will be a place for believers of all kinds, especially those who need help. “I don’t want regular parishioners,” Cononie said. “We’ll of course take them, and I hope our regular parishioners would reach out to help other people, but I want the hookers, the prostitutes, the meth heads, anyone who’s in crisis.”
behind the desk
Manager shares thoughts on motel
Gina Mora, front desk manager, shows how to make envelopes for the room keys. Photo by Emily Miels
By Emily Miels A bell rings as the door opens and customers enter to check in or out and stock up on supplies like snacks, drinks and cigarettes. The phone rings and Gina Mora answers with a friendly and experienced, “Thank you for calling the Stay Plus Inn, COSAC Quarters. How may I help you?” Look a little closer, however, and visitors may notice some differences between most motels and the Stay Plus Inn, which has been dubbed “America’s first homeless resort” by owner Sean Cononie. It’s a different clientele that stays in the motel now, Mora said. She would know. She has worked at the Stay Plus Inn, formerly a Howard Johnson motel, for almost 15 years. Cononie took ownership of the facility earlier this year, bringing with him more than 100 residents from his former homeless shelter in Hollywood, Florida. “Some, they don't want to take a shower, and you can smell them. It's sad,” she said, before pointing out the air fresheners she had stashed inconspicuously around the front desk to help mask the odor when needed. There’s a note taped on the desk as a reminder to “Call 3” in case of emergency, which Mora said was sparked by a difficult guest a few weeks ago. “(Sean) said any emergency call three immediately, because we don't know what kind of people (will come,)” Mora, who also lives on
“Sometimes the guests come in with many problems, so grumpy, and when you give a smile, make them feel at home, they're going to feel happy.” the property, said. “If you say something wrong to them — maybe they have bipolar, maybe schizophrenia, we don't know.” A local church also dropped off some donations one Sunday afternoon, not a typical gesture seen at most motels. Mora, who grew up in Peru and moved to Florida in 1982, handles every call, email and guest with professionalism, frequently using her Spanish. With the buzz of the staff walkie-talkies and the occasional ring of the bell over the door, she folds
recycled pieces of paper into small envelopes for the room keys during her downtime. While the facility, its clientele, ownership and operation may have changed during her time here, Mora said the overall goal — to give the guests a positive experience during their stay — has not. “Always we need to smile and to be very professional with the guests. And some guests they say ‘no problem,’ they take it. But a lot of people they don't feel safe or comfortable,” she said of travelers who make their way to rent a room at “the homeless resort.” “Sometimes the guests come in with many problems, so grumpy, and when you give a smile, make them feel at home, they're going to feel happy.” She said the housekeeping staff — Consuelo, Rosario and Enixa — works very hard to make sure the rooms are clean and orderly. She showed off the multiple sheets, written in both English and Spanish, listing the detailed cleaning directions. She is stocked with maps of the hotels and surrounding locations, ready to assist the guests with any of their questions and needs. She makes a genuine effort to converse with the guests and get to know them, calling many by name. “Sometimes, I pay for the people, but today I don't bring money,” she said when a resident didn’t have the change to pay for his snack. Maybe the most important thing that has stayed the same, Mora said, is that she still loves her job. “I love my job, and I try to help and be a better person every day while we help other people,” she said.
Homeless voice • will write for food
• 13
Stuck in a shelter One family’s story of how they arrived here despite having a home
Nick Davis (right), 14, and friend James sit outside the Stay Plus Inn lobby. He spends most days hanging around the shelter because everything else is too far away. “I can’t go out and go hang out with friends and go play games,” he said.Photo by Shannon Kaestle
By Nicole DeCriscio Corey Davis has to go online to talk to his friends. That’s because the 19-year-old and his family are stranded at a Florida motel. He spends his days sleeping, gaming and sitting around. Corey mostly sits at his mom’s computer playing a role-playing game. He doesn’t like it here. “There is no one my age that I can hang out with,” he said. “It’s all little kids.” Transportation is a problem for most residents. The shelter is far away from everything, even WalMart. The only entertainment is the swimming pool and the internet. When Corey, his mom Trina and brother Nick moved to Florida, they expected it to be a short trip to check on a sick relative. But it’s been nearly five months, and they’re still here. They’re stuck. They have a mobile home near Springfield, Illinois, they just don’t have a car to get to it. “We started calling through the phonebook and this place was listed under Stay Plus, but they said that they go according to your income,” Trina said, which was the answer for the family that lives on $733 dollars-a-month. But the entire family shares the desire to go home. “We’re all so homesick and Nick especially because he misses his own school and his own friends,” Trina said. “We want to be home so badly. We just don’t have the transportation.” The lack of a vehicle is most of the reason the family cannot go back to Illinois.
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“The majority are people that just can’t afford to live in the real world, but they can afford to live here because the way things work is different.” A few weeks ago, they had plans to return home, but on the day they planned to leave, they received news that her godmother, who is in Jacksonville, was ill again, the other reason for staying here. “We’re just kind of leaving it in God’s hands,” Trina said. “I feel like God led us here.” Trina refers to the small double hotel room as income-based housing for her, her sons and her two dogs, Lilly and Trouble. Her brother, Robert, also shares the space with them. While space is limited, she says it’s better than sleeping under a tree. Because the family plans on making this stay temporary, Trina doesn’t see herself and her family as homeless.
“I don’t really consider myself homeless if you think about it because I have to pay rent every month, so I’m not homeless,” she said. “I’m just living here until I can get my family back home.” While she rejects the label of homeless, she wanted to set the outside world straight – not all homeless people are drug addicts. “The majority are people that just can’t afford to live in the real world, but they can afford to live here because the way things work is different,” she said. “They’re paying their bills every month, too. It’s just a little harder.” In the meantime, Trina is doing what she can. She’s saving money, while still providing for her family, and praying. “I’ve just got to have faith and be patient,” Trina said. On the other side of the room, 14-year-old Nick gets ready to go outside with his one of his two friends here, James, who also lives in the shelter. “I don’t talk to anybody from my school here,” Nick said. The freshman in high school wishes that the mall was closer to the hotel. “It’s not like I have the money to go shopping,” he said, fully aware of the financial situation his family is in, “but at least I could hang out with people there.” He shares the boredom of his brother, Corey, and browses the Internet to pass time when he’s not hanging out with James. To him, living in a hotel isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. “Yeah, okay, I live in a hotel, but also I don’t have as many opportunities as you,” he said. “I can’t go out and go hang out with friends and go play games.”
Reservation for one at Heartbreak Hotel
By Malorie Paine Heartbreak was something I thought I had when I stopped talking to a guy I really liked for a few days. I was wrong. I had never honestly experienced a heartbreaking situation until Labor Day weekend at the Stay Plus Inn, when a 5-year-old boy changed my life with a six-word question. “Can I come live with you?” he asked. My heart didn’t just break in that moment; it shattered into a million pieces. I have never experienced pain quite like that before, and I honestly hope that I never have to again. This Labor Day certainly wasn’t my first time experiencing homelessness, but it was the first time I’d been asked by a perfectly sweet, innocent child to remove him from the situation he was in. Being at the shelter wasn’t heart breaking for me, it was the fact that this little boy had no control over the situation he was in. He is 5 years old, and it’s not fair
that he has to experience something so terrible at such a young age. He’s currently living in the shelter with his mom, dad and three brothers. I realized heartbreak isn’t when you end things with someone you like. Heartbreak is when you witness 25 children living in a motel, and you can’t do a damn thing about it. Heartbreak is when you sit with a homeless 5-yearold for a couple of hours, and he starts to ask you about where you live and whether or not your home is a mess. This sweet little boy shattered my heart into a million pieces when he asked that one simple question. At 24 years old, six words have never affected me quite so much. In that moment, I was fighting back tears talking to him and throughout the remainder of the day. I had to find a way to divert the question so that I didn’t have to answer it. I quickly moved the conversation back to the purple balloon he had given
me earlier that day. No one, especially an innocent 5-year-old, should have to experience something like the homeless shelter. He didn’t ask for this situation, he has done nothing to deserve the life he’s been given. I can’t remove him from this situation, obviously. He has two parents who love him very much and who are trying to provide for him. What shattered my heart wasn’t that he asked me, it’s that my answer couldn’t be yes. This 5-yearold boy has forever changed my heart, and I will always remember what a heart shattering feels like. By Malorie Paine
Homeless voice • will write for food
• 15
Hazardous to His Health By Rachel Joyner
Mental health
“I’m pretty stressed out,” Cononie says. He takes Xanax, a prescription medication for anxiety, when he really needs it.
Teeth
Since he took over the homeless shelter, Sean has had eight cavities and root canals, despite brushing and picking his teeth every day.
Heart
Sean’s father had high blood pressure and his mother has high cholesterol. checks his blood pressure every day. It averages 150/94 most days, he says. The national standards a panel of experts (JNC 8), recommends that people on blood pressure medications have a reading of 140/90 or below. Sean’s blood pressure during the exam was 129/92.
Abdomen
Sean has a large hernia in his abdomen. He has had hernias in his groin repaired four times with mesh.
Skin
Most of Sean’s body is covered with small red spots. Doctors have told him it’s everything from atopic dermatitis to broken blood vessels.
Musculoskeletal
Sean has chronic back, leg and arm pain from previous accidents and surgeries, including a torn rotator cuff. He takes Percocet as need for pain. He also has Restless Leg Syndrome, a neurological problem characterized by uncontrolled leg movements and pain.
Exercise
LEgs
“When I have too many Monsters or eat Chinese food, my feet swell a lot.” Sean said his feet also swell a lot after walking around all day. Photos by Stephanie Collaianni
These are the medications Sean uses on a regular basis: Amlodipine 5 mg daily – for high blood pressure Metoprolol tartrate 25 mg twice a day – for high blood pressure Hydrochlorothiazide 12.5 mg daily – diuretic, to remove excess fluid and for blood pressure Zocor 10 mg nightly – for high cholesterol Asprin 81 mg daily – for heart attack and stroke prevention Percocet 30 mg twice daily – for chronic pain in back, neck, joints Percocet 10 mg six times daily – for chronic pain in back, neck, joints Xanax 0.25 mg – taken on an as needed basis for anxiety Nitroglycerin 0.4 mg – as needed for chest pain Klonopin 1 mg – as need for emergency high blood pressure Amoxicillin 500 mg – takes as needed for infections Rachael Joyner, RN, tests Sean Cononies blood sugar.
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I can’t believe he isn’t dead. I’m a registered nurse, and that’s all I could think after performing a 20-minute history and physical exam on Sean Cononie, director of Stay Plus Inn. I’ve known Sean for seven years, since I was the first Will Write for Food editor. In that time I’ve observed his chain smoking, caffeine chugging and sleep deprivation, which I always thought sounded bad. But now that I’m a nurse, I understand that the way he lives his life could kill him. On a typical day, Sean, 50, will consume eight to 10 Monster energy drinks, two packs of cigarettes, a case of iced tea, handfuls of candy, and a few takeout meals. Sean said he sleeps about four hours for every 30 he’s awake. I was shocked, but Sean didn’t seem worried. “I think I’m pretty healthy,” he said. Here’s what I found. You decide. Note - When Will Write for Food first started in 2009, Rachael Joyner was the editor-in-chief. She now works as a Registered Nurse at a regional hospital in Boca Raton, Florida. She is also working on a Master’s degree to become a family nurse practitioner at Florida Atlantic University. Height – 6 ft. 1 in Weight – 358 BMI – 47.2 – Body mass index (BMI) gives an estimation of body fat based on height and weight. The higher your BMI, the higher your risk for all kinds of diseases: heart disease, stroke,
breathing problems, osteoarthritis, type 2 diabetes, some cancers and mental illnesses such as depression and anxiety. According to the National Institute of Health, a BMI of 40 and above is considered extreme obesity (class III).
lungs
Sean has sleep apnea and wears a CPAP machine, which helps him breathe at night. He also uses oxygen as needed. He’s probably used it twice in the last year. He has smoked about 2 packs of cigarettes per day for about 30 years.
Diet
“I eat what I want when I want,” said Sean, whose diet consists of takeout meals, candy, energy drinks, and iced tea. Sean’s random blood sugar test was 153 mg/dL; a normal result is less than 200.
“I try to tread water in the pool every night for about 45 minutes. I haven’t been able to do it at all this week.”
preventative health Sean gets regular colonoscopies because he’s concerned about colorectal cancer.
KEEPING SEAN CONONIE ALIVE
is health caues worry, but no dedidicated staff is there to support him in everyway. Photos by Stephanie Collaianni
By Loan Le You’re not supposed to stick antibiotic capsules up your butt. You’re not supposed to drink eight to 10 cans of Monster Energy drink every day. And you’re definitely not supposed to pee 1 1/2 gallons of urine during a four-hour power sleep. But Sean Cononie, owner of the Stay Plus Inn homeless complex, gets away with this because he says he has more important things to worry about. *** The ashtray on Cononie’s desk is rimmed with six burning cigarettes – all his. In between alternating drags of those cigarettes, he gulps from a 20-ounce Monster energy drink, one of many he’ll consume in a day. Recently, he went through 20 cans in a day. Like a revolving door, his staff members walk in, sit down across from him, and tell him what’s new in their lives. Then they leave when the walkie-talkie starts chirping, but not before lending Cononie a lighter for a cig when he asks. Only when a pause settles in a conversation, or when his walkie-talkie is silent, does he think about himself. Pulling out multicolored bottles from a baggie, Cononie is picking out his daily dosage of medication. As he places down the pills, one by one, he lists his conditions. Sleep apnea. High cholesterol. High blood pressure. Chronic joint pain. Chronic lower-leg edema. Abdominal hernia. He keeps these conditions at bay, taking his pills. Sometimes he does water aerobics in the pool. It helps that he has a shelter to run, so he could find projects throughout the day. But he says it’s hard to get in a routine, with what happens at the hotel. Just two weeks ago, Cononie had to save a life. Stay Plus resident Frank, a legless, wheelchair-bound man, ate a morphine pain patch to get high. Overdosing, his body slack and mouth agape, he needed CPR, which Cononie performed until the EMTs arrived.
Frank’s OK now, and he says his morphine patch, which is supposed to last three days, has run out. In his office, handing Frank another patch for his pain, Cononie warns him not to eat it. “I don’t want to find you dead,” he says. Frank answers, “Yes, sir,” and rolls away. He can deal with the residents, Cononie says, because “Saving a life is easy. But dealing with all this government pushback, that’s what I have to deal with. This year has been mentally challenging.” Hollywood kicked out COSAC to “cleanse the city of unwanted vagabonds,” reported the Sun Sentinel, and ultimately Cononie was given a hand he couldn’t play. Seeing Hollywood emergency response slacking, the stigma of the shelter keeping them away, Cononie needed to move for the residents’ sake. “They deserve better,” he says. Knowing that “he takes on too much and gets shortwinded, we take care of him,” Jeanne Cardamone says. Cardamone doesn’t work with Cononie anymore, but she visits the low-income hotel because she misses the residents. She jokes that she and Cononie are divorced, and says she knows him inside and out. She’s there any time he needs her, because he does the same for the residents. “I don’t know where he gets the empathy. He loves them,” Cardamone says. “I don’t even want to think about if something happened to Sean. It’d be tragic. We would be shattered, broken, lost,” she says. “I don’t think we could get anyone more empathetic than Sean.” Mike O’Hara has worked with Cononie for seven years and followed him from Hollywood to Haines City. Like everyone, he’s seen the job’s toll on Cononie. O’Hara tells him to think about what would happen if Cononie’s health got in the way, to think of all he’s done for residents. “You only live once,” he’d say to Cononie. “It’s great that you help, but sooner or later, you have to think of yourself. You’re only promised tomorrow.”
“He’s stubborn; he’s a mule. Because he’s so passionate about what he does” Cynthia “Cyndi” Malvita, Cononie’s right-hand person, “since he’s already left-handed,” also notices a change in Cononie, whom she’s known since high school. It’s not just sleep apnea keeping him up at night. In Hollywood, “he had friends and enemies, but still a lot of supporters. And people who really understand Sean,” Malvita says. “Here, they judge him and the homeless.” Malvita makes sure he does something as simple as eating. “I don’t give him an option,” she says. She makes him smoothies with strawberries, blueberries and bananas, and sneaks in some chocolate flavor, because she knows Cononie loves it. During lunchtime the other day, she fed him sliced mozzarella, tomato, avocado, drizzled with balsamic vinegar, because she just wants him to eat. “He’s stubborn; he’s a mule. Because he’s so passionate about what he does,” Malvita says. Back at his desk, Cononie lights yet another cigarette. The Monster can is empty. It’s noon. Cononie shrugs when asked what keeps him going. “If I don’t fight, if we don’t keep fighting, this group will be extinguished in the future.”
Homeless voice • will write for food
• 17
Cellophane Men
Two men struggle to be seen in a world that wants to forget the homeless by rachael joyner Everyone wants to forget the homeless, but there are two homeless men I can’t forget. •••••• I met them four years apart—one when I was a nurse for less than a year, the other when I was a journalist for less than a weekend. Seven years ago, I was the first editor for Will Write For Food, the program that has taken over this homeless newspaper every Labor Day Weekend (see page 3). Now I’m back with 22 alums from years past, creating another homeless newspaper. My ideas about the homeless have dramatically evolved—and it’s what I did in between that changed them. In 2011, I went back to school and became a nurse. Six months later, I met a homeless man named Joe Dee*. This weekend, I met another homeless man named James Geiger. Though they live 183 miles apart, their struggles are strikingly similar. They are homeless. They think people don’t see them. That they don’t matter. That they are a lost cause. But I see them. Their stories are still so real to me; the heartbreaking details are burned into my brain. ‘My Balls Hurt’ The first time I met Dee he was rolling down the hall in a wheelchair, his cantaloupe-sized testicles bursting from his ripped khaki’s. “My balls hurt! My balls! Will someone take a look at these balls?” he pleaded in the direction of any doctor or nurse passing by. “No nurse wants to take care of a homeless person like that,” the night nurse scoffed as she passed me his information handoff sheet. “They don’t listen. They smell. They usually have lice, or scabies or both. They’re on all kinds of narcotic meds. Basically, they’re a walking mess. Good luck.” Dee, a weathered 50-something, was my patient, and I was a little terrified. He came in because his testicles were so swollen he couldn’t walk. The doctor ordered an ultrasound of the area to check for hernias or masses. About 20 minutes after sending Dee down for the test, I received a call from the ultrasound technician. “I refuse to scan this patient,” she said, screaming. “He smells terrible. He won’t even let me remove his disgusting pants.” “Um,” I stammered, “but the doctor really needs that test done.” “Well, unless the doctor wants to rip these filthy pants off and do it himself, I’m sending the patient back,” she said, slamming the down the phone. The staff had been trying to force Dee to take off his dirty clothes, take a shower and get into a hospital gown for the last three days. When Dee returned, he was ranting about how no one was helping him. That was when I decided to tell him the truth. “Dee, I think people would take you more seriously if you took a shower. You kind of smell,” I said. “Don’t you want to get cleaned up? I’ll help you.” I was expecting another rant. Instead, Dee quietly unbuttoned his shirt and said: “Thank you for talking to me like a person and being honest. No one does that when you are homeless.” ‘That’s For the Twist and Flexin’ My first meeting with James Geiger, 53, was brief.
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(Top) Haines City EMS responded to a call for Geiger September 5, at the Stay Plus Inn after he complained about severe pain in his legs as other residents look on. (Right) Still wearing his hospital I.D bracelet, he takes off his band-aid to reveal one of his four tattoos. He says he contracted Hepatitis C while his was in jail receiving the tattoos. Photo by Stephanie Colaianni The ambulance rushed him to the hospital as shelter residents looked on. “I’m a walking disaster,” he said. He wasn’t kidding. He has diabetes, liver cirrhosis, hepatitis C and congestive heart failure. His legs are swollen, thick like a baby elephant and purple from poor circulation. Geiger, a resident at Stay Plus Inn for four months, has been to the hospital six times in the last year. This admission was less than 24 hours. Winter Haven Hospital sent him home with three prescriptions—an antibiotic for his urinary tract infection, a diuretic to remove excess fluid from his legs and lungs, and a topical ointment for the infection in his legs. “They discharged me after I kept everyone up all night,” he said, a mischievous grin creeping across his face. “I’ve always been trouble.” Growing up in poverty in Polk County with an abusive, alcoholic father, Geiger quickly racked up a wrap sheet of his own. “I used to play baseball as a kid. I don’t know what happened,” he said. At 13, he stopped playing baseball, went and bought a bag of pot and some beer and never looked back. He spent several years in jail, which is where he got hepatitis C. “It’s called a stick n’ poke,” Geiger said, pointing to a faded tattoo on his right arm. “A guy in jail gave me four.” He described how they used soot, baby shampoo, a mechanical pencil and a staple sharpened on the floor to make the homemade tattoos. “I paid him $10 and 20 bags of 50-cent potato chips,” Geiger said. “It was stupid. I was young.” Geiger dumps the contents of a turquoise duffel bag
on the table, a mess of medication bottles and personal effects. He said he takes 17 pills each day, when he has them. They’re prescribed by a doctor in Winter Haven, the next town over. He takes a taxi there every month. “That’s for the twistin’ and flexin’,” he said, holding up a bottle of Citalopram, an antidepressant medication. Geiger is plagued by involuntary facial and body movements. He twitches, writhes, jerks and flails— neurological damage caused by years of chronic methamphetamine use. He uses a walker to get around and falls often, he said. Then, there are the people who just stare. “People don’t want to talk to me,” he said. “I think that they think I’m eat up. Ya know, an idiot.” “I was supposed to die three years ago, a doctor told me,” said Geiger, who doesn’t sleep much anymore. “When someone tells you that you’re going to die, you don’t want to sleep.” As a nurse, I knew he had only a year or two to live, but I could do something to make those years better. As a journalist, all I can do is write that. That’s why I left journalism for nursing. Maybe I can make a difference rather than simply tell a sad story. *The patient’s name and some defining details were changed to protect his privacy.
Sean Cononie:
accidental Anarchist
Homeless workers sign contract with radical union
By: Roberto Roldan Florida’s first homeless resort might soon be home to Florida’s first homeless labor union. The 12 vendors of the Stay Plus Inn work eight hours a day, sometimes six days a week, hawking the Homeless Voice newspaper on the streets of Tampa and Orlando. They get no break from the street, and they eat a bag lunch. They earn an estimated $73 a week as well as food and board. A century-old anarchist workers union is organizing the laborers and Stay Plus Inn owner Sean Cononie is paying their dues. Cononie has been working with Joey Leach, a delegate of International Workers of the World, to address the concerns of the vendors. Leach said the union will help the vendors deal with unwarranted harassment from police and business owners. Eventually, however, the labor union could overthrow Cononie and he didn’t even know it. The end goal of International Workers of the World is to “overthrow capitalism by organizing labor” and eventually start a general strike to “halt capitalist modes of production,” Leach said. Though IWW’s main focus at Stay Plus Inn will be ensuring safe working conditions for the vendors, Leach said the organization’s anarcho-socialist philosophy will probably be discussed at general meetings. Cononie said he didn’t know about the political side of the union before he introduced the vendors to Leach. He said if the union proves too radical, he will stop paying the dues of the vendors and possibly even start his own union. “I thought (unionizing) would be a good way to create a channel of dialogue with the vendors and protect them,” Cononie said. “But the political thing is very concerning.”
“I thought (unionizing) would be a good way to create a channel of dialogue with the vendors and protect them,” Cononie said. “But the political thing is very concerning.” For now, Leach will act as a mediator between Cononie and The Homeless Voice vendors if any labor disputes exist and will help connect the vendors to other paid day labor and full-time employment. The IWW has already had some success in organizing panhandlers in Ottawa, Ontario and Montreal, under the name Ottowa Panhandler’s Union. “Being in IWW would allow (the Homeless Voice vendors) to take advantage of solidarity in the face of managers and police and be a part of an international network of laborers and employers,” Leach said. The most important issues among vendors have been long hours and days off during the week. The vendors also did not know about political ideologies of the IWW. For vendor Cory Anderson, who lives at Stay Plus Inn with his pregnant girlfriend Stephanie Summers, having a day off during the week is vital for moving on from vending to a part time job. All vendors can take a day off whenever they want, but they still must pay rent at the shelter that they would
normally pay by selling the paper. Anderson said he runs in to problems securing full time work when employers follow up on a resume during the week while he works eight-hour shifts on the street corner. “My main thing is we want a job that pays good that will pay our way at the shelter and also give me money to support my family,” he said. Winston Fortune has been a vendor since he came to the Stay Plus Inn in early September. Fortune said he has years of experience panhandling in Central Florida and he wants more control over the corners where he solicits donations. Though Fortune said he appreciates being able to work for the free rent and three meals a days that come along with his $25-per-week salary, he would appreciate some more time to himself. “You have to work to eat— that’s understood — but in this case we are humans and we need some time to be human and do other things,” he said. In order to push changes in the way the vendors operate, many of the workers want a way to share their concerns with Cononie and other managers at Stay Plus Inn. They hope that a union might be able to create those channels. “I’d love to have Sean sitting down with all of us to talk about our problems without repercussions,” Anderson said. “That would be the ideal situation.” Though organizing kitchen staff, maids and meal servers isn’t a part of the conversation between IWW and Stay Plus Inn, Fortune said he thinks everyone should be a part of the union. “We are all the same, there are servers and cooks and other people and they all need a chance to speak up,” Fortune said.
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